


Beautiful Mess

by SatelliteKazoo



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Gaping, Cum Marking, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fingering, First Time, Implied Voyerism, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, aft sex, eventual rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatelliteKazoo/pseuds/SatelliteKazoo
Summary: Sunstreaker wanted a lot of things when he was revved up. Most things he tried had rarely lived up to the fantasy he could concoct in his processor.Until Ironhide found him.





	Beautiful Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr's Maccadam Filthy-Fills  
>  _Ironhide/Sunstreaker, Sunny taking it up the aft for the first time, and whoops, Ironhide has got a huge spike._

“Ya ready?”

“Whatever you got old mech, I can take.”

There was a deep chuckle from behind his aft port, a hot ex-vent causing his outer caliper seal to clench and pulse in retreat.

A hot, wet tongue descended and Sunstreaker’s plating flared. Exposed vents sputtered and his fans spun faster with the foreign feel. The tight caliper sealing his aft port shut pulsed open a fraction to welcome the new sensation. Encouraged, Ironhide’s tongue probed in deeper. Lubricant welled in Sunstreaker’s valve. His calipers there clenching on nothing. Resting his forehead down on the back of his hands, Sunstreaker looked under him. A bead of lubricant formed at the tip of his pressurized spike. Ironhide was crouched down behind him, hands grasped around Sunstreaker's upper thighs. He was pulled back against Ironhide's face. His spike jumped and throbbed with the increased pressure, his aft held tight against Ironhide's mouth.

Ironhide pulled his tongue out, then pressed his face harder against Sunstreaker’s aft and shoved it back in. 

"Ugh-Ah!" The shuddered, grunted gasp forced its way out of Sunstreaker's vocalizer.

The older mech moaned: a low deep grumble of satisfaction that shot straight through Sunstreaker’s heavy armored plating and vibrating down covered sensitive wires attached to his protoform.

An anxious knot in his fuel tank flipped even as he arched back to rock himself on that thick wet tongue of the older mech.

Ironhide's tongue probed deeper, revving his engine and moaning low as he thoroughly enjoyed himself licking Sunstreaker's aft. His thick tongue wiggled and lapped deeper. In and out. In and out. Stretching and contracting. A gentle tracing around the rim, then shoving deep. 

"Ugh-Ah!" Sunstreaker pressed his aft back for more.

Ironhide gave a hard rev as a reward causing Sunstreaker’s cooling fans to strain despite the strange new sensation. He could feel the smug smile form on Ironhide’s face against his surprisingly sensitive port. Slowly, tauntingly, Ironhide withdrew his tongue from Sunstreaker’s aft and gave a long flat lick across the hole - only to thrust it back in once more. Sunstreaker’s aft port entry clamped down on the sudden foreign entry on reflex, then relaxed as Ironhide pulled back out. He could hear the soft wet sound of Ironhide licking his lips then four long savouring licks.

"Mmmmm." The older mech rumbled with one final long lick.

The tip of his tongue circled lightly.

Slow. Soft. Too soft.

"That's all you've got?" Sunstreaker couldn’t hold back is moaning demand as he pressed back against it, half hoping Ironhide would press it back in. Lubricant trickled from his valve across an exterior node, and Sunstreaker couldn’t resist reaching between his own legs to rub it. The slick mesh of his valve lips parted with his two fingers. He was so wet, and Ironhide hadn't even touched his spike or his valve.

Ironhide's mouth pulled away from his aft and Sunstreaker stared down at his own hard spike with a string of the beginnings of transfluid reaching toward the floor. Aft perked and his port wet with Ironhide's oral fluid, Sunstreaker rolled his exerior valve node between his fingers. 

His actions were rewarded with the sight of himself on his knees from behind. Ironhide streamed the video of what he could see directly to Sunstreaker’s HUD. Black modesty plating polished to a high gloss and retracted to reveal his detailed and golden filagreed array. Yellow biolights on his spike pulsed with his arousal. He looked fantastic bent over on a sparing mat in the training room, aft port glistening and golden fingers parting and playing with the wet mess of his valve.

The sight of himself like this: those golden fingers stark against the black, sliding up and down the soaking slit of his valve, glistening aft port exposed, caused Sunstreaker to perk his aft higher and spread his legs wider for a better view. He scissored two drenched fingers through his valve lips. Parting them to see his glowing golden node coated in lubricant catching the lights. It gave his valve fluid a delicate iridescent sheen, contrasting with his strong hand that had crumpled the plating of foes.

Sunstreaker split the screen of his HUD to hold Ironhide’s point of view, and glanced high up at the security camera in front of him. There were three in this room. One in front, one to the side facing the door, and one behind him. Sunstreaker was bent over on his knees in the center sparing ring, the only place illuminated in the room. Not knowing who was on monitor duty, and might stumble through those three video feeds of himself and Ironhide in the training room only added to the thrill and charge humming under his seams. 

Would they look away in disgust? Or would they drift a curious finger down to their own aft port? Maybe they’d work their spike in their hand, imaging Sunstreaker might spread out like this before them. Would he let them touch him? 

Ironhide had found Sunstreaker in here like this a decacycle ago. Slight overcharge from a party lingering in his system and worked up with his fingers pumping in his valve pointed toward a security camera. The older mech had told him he better clean up the mess he was making in the ring, then asked if he had wanted company.

Sunstreaker had goaded him, said an old mech couldn’t keep up. 

Five overloads later and with the transmitted sight of three of Ironhide’s thick fingers stretching his valve, Sunstreaker had become a quivering, gorgeous mess. He had been begging for Ironhide’s spike before the third arching overload shot through his circuits. After his fifth, Ironhide began stroking his own spike with a valve fluid soaked hand. He had only teased the tip at the entrance of Sunstreaker’s valve while Sunstreaker scissored his fingers around it. He had kept rocking back but Ironhide kept him from taking his spike up his valve with a firm hand resting and pressing down on his aft plating. Unable to take it, Sunstreaker had thrust three fingers into his own shimmering valve. Hypnotized by the sight on his HUD of himself masturbating on his knees, with his previously meticulously polished plating drenched with his need, he begged to be able to see Ironhide stretch him from the older mech's point of view.

Ironhide’s had fan’s hitched, fingers on the hand against his aft panel had worked at the seam. Tugging as Ironhide masturbated faster with Sunstreaker's valve fluid coating his hand. Curious, and revved hotter than he had ever been, Sunstreaker let him force the transformation of his aft panel. While he begged and moaned on his own fingers, hot transfluid had arched up across Sunstreaker’s aft. A splash on his exposed aft port had sent static lacing across his HUD in a surprise sixth overload.

Working himself up as he replayed the memory file, now he focused back on Ironhide’s live video feed. Two golden fingers teased at his valve, spreading it for a better view while he teased his entrance with a center finger. His aft port cover retracted; exposed and glistening in full view.

He rocked on his fingers as his fans clicked up their pace. Frag he looked hot.

A teasing finger that wasn’t his, rimmed his wet aft port, and Sunstreaker watched it cycle down in his uncertainty.

“You are certain there’s a node up there?” Sunstreaker’s voice quivered slightly, his own fingers on his valve slowing to more of a soothing caress across soft, wet mesh. 

“More than one. Promise.” The half vented voice caressed against the heat of Sunstreaker’s interface equipment. The exvent, causing his lubricants to chill in its breeze. “Gonna stretch this gorgeous aft first. Ya ready to try one finger?”

“Of course.” Sunstreaker flared his plating in challenge.

Two of Ironhide's larger fingers pressed into Sunstreaker's valve easily. With a soft sigh he couldn't hold in, Sunstreaker rocked himself on them.

"Frag look at ya. So wet from me licking that tight aft of yours." Ironhide's two fingers stayed still as Sunstreaker eagerly pumped himself on them. His attention kept straying from the feed of his valve toward his wet aft port. 

The two fingers withdrew and trailed up with a string of lubricant from their tips, and circled gently on Sunstreaker's aft port. Ironhide's two black fingers traced the simple golden circle detail Sunstreaker had added to his aft port. One finger pressed right in the center. Wiggled gently. 

Then pushed up to the first joint. The golden rim he had painted around his aft port stretched tight around Ironhide's finger. Sunstreaker wrinkled his nasal ridge, uncertain if he liked the feel. The only description he could use was odd. It didn’t hurt, but the erotic thrill of trying aft play for the first time, even with the potential of someone watching, was fading.

“There’ll be pain and discomfort, but I’ll make you forget it.” Ironhide slowly withdrew his finger before pushing it back in. A second finger caressed the outer part of his aft port, and Ironhide’s other hand teased Sunstreaker’s valve. His finger easily slipped inside there. Sunstreaker arched back and whined to entice a second one inside. “The pain’ll fade and those nodes will rise, and I promise ya, it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever felt.”

Ironhide easily slid a second finger into Sunstreaker’s eager valve. The finger in his aft port pushed all the way in. Sunstreaker ignored it, rocking softly on the fingers in his valve and gave a frustrated huff when he watched them withdraw. With a soft click, Ironhide retracted his pelvic plating. His spike jutted out with a slight hiss and his own relieved moan to finally allow it to pressurize. Sunstreaker watched on his HUD as Ironhide's spike bounced and red biolights pulsed. Beneath that silver spike, Sunstreaker was spread with a finger up his aft port while Ironhide worked Sunstreaker’s valve fluid down his length. Staring at Ironhide's hand unable to grasp around his own girth, the finger in Sunstreaker's aft port suddenly felt massive. He clenched down as it pulled out, his golden rim collapsing tight. Sunstreaker’s processor raced as he turned his head to stare at Ironhide stroking his own spike from two points of view.

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed as if he were confronting a challenging opponent. Certainly Ironhide could fit. He couldn’t be larger than three fingers, four at most. It’s be tight, but aft ports stretched...

“Getting tired of looking at your own aft Sunshine?” Ironhide teased with a low rumble, optics locked on Sunstreaker looking awkwardly over a heavily armored shoulder.

“Never." Sunstreaker snapped, "And don’t call me Sunshine.”

“I for one,” Ironhide chuckled and he started pumping his single finger stretching Sunstreaker’s aft port, a second caressing the stretch, “Don’t think I’d ever get tired of this view.” 

Sunstreaker turned his head away, and dropped his hand from his valve node to focus on the new, odd and full sensation up his aft. Out of Ironhide's view, he chewed his lower lip and glanced up at the camera he was facing. No matter how much experience Sunstreaker had, being bent over on his hands and knees, waiting for Ironhide to shove his big spike up his aft in the training room, made him feel like an inexperienced newbuild.

The lines and cables in his arms began to tremble slightly under his own supporting weight. The memory file and delightful feel of hot transfluid splashing against his aft port and the resulting overload, still told him this was a good idea.

Something cold dribbled down his aft and his engine sputtered in indignation. Snapping his attention back to the feed on his HUD, he all but growled, “What. Is. That?”

“Gun oil.” A clear liquid pooled around the finger in his aft port and Ironhide wormed the second finger beside it. He pressed and Sunstreaker grit his teeth as he watched that gold rim stretch further. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this without lubricant.”

“I’m plenty wet.” Sunstreaker protested with a grunt at the new stretch. Part of his processor rebelled, warned of foreign entry and he batted it aside. He wanted to do this. He did.

“It’s different.” Ironhide laughed again, a slight scoff that hinted he had considered rolling his optics. A taunting finger dragged up Sunstreaker’s wet slit. He watched his own mesh part around it and his plating relaxed. So did his hard clamp on those two intruding fingers. “I want to make this a good different for ya. Don’t want to hurt ya, but you’re gonna feel so good ta me, stretched tight around my spike, ya gotta tell me if I go too fast.”

“You?” Sunstreaker scoffed. “Move faster than me?” 

“Ya’ve got a lotta talk about something ya never tried. Ya told me you liked it, when you dropped down in the washracks to give me another show. Begged me to overload on your aft port again. You're driving me to distraction. I want in ya so bad,” The second finger worked its way in deeper and Ironhide paused to let Sunstreaker’s port adjust and relax before he started pumping them in and out. “Ya have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bend your smart aft over like this on this very mat.”

"Everyone's thought about me at least twice to bring themselves to overload." Sunstreaker gloated and found himself rocking slightly at the sight of those two fingers wedged deep up his aft port. 

"You give everyone a show like the one you gave me in the washracks?"

Heat rose to Sunstreaker's face at the reminder of how he had acted in the washracks. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. Of course Ironhide wanted him, but Sunstreaker being the one begging for attention was new. As a distraction from the fingers stretching his aft, or maybe a reminder for himself, he replayed the video file. 

A strange thrill had shot through his circuits as he had watched himself again on Ironhide’s fingers in his valve. The older mech’s finger had ghosted Sunstreaker’s then unadorned aft port to bring Sunstreaker to his every overload until pressed the tip of his spike against his tight port. His weight pressed down on Sunstreaker as he had leaned forward and whispered how tight he’d feel and how beautiful he'd look. Sunstreaker had still been quivering from an overlapping overload, begging for Ironhide to just fragging stick it in already when hot transfluid squirted against the unprobed entrance. He had tried to press his tight aft around that spike tip as Ironhide spurted on him, revved up and desperate to feel that pulse of hot fluid inside him.

Ironhide had stayed and stared at Sunstreaker trying to force the tip, watching his fluid dripped down Sunstreaker's aft port and plating. Sunstreaker had become insensible with need and he followed the order to play with the older mech’s transfluid on his aft then hold his aft plating spread. Sunstreaker had been rewarded with the desperate sight of his trembling frame on the floor of the washracks where anyone could walk in, his golden fingers slipping and fiddling with Ironhide's fluids over his cycled closed port. Then he grabbed both sides of his aft plating, pressed his face to the filthy washracks floor and spread to display his fluid marked aft to his superior officer. A second splash of hot transfluid pressed and spurt against his sensitive aft port as a reward for following orders. Pressure on his aft port increased, Ironhide's transfluid spurted up his back and dripped down his empty valve. Without any stimulation, his spike had pulsed and spilled his own transfluid on the floor. His hands had slipped as he quivered and begged for more, trying his best to hold his aft spread and open while Ironhide rutted and grunted against his tight port. 

He had maddeningly refused to enter.

Then he had the nerve to suggest Sunstreaker stay there, on the floor, spread willingly because he was such a gorgeous mess. Dripping in condensation and Ironhide’s transfluid, Sunstreaker stayed put while his superior officer washed off.

Anyone could have walked in, and Sunstreaker spread willingly, filthy, and unable to resist playing with transfluid on his aft port when Ironhide ordered him to would have been the first thing they saw. The thought had been humiliating at first, but guessing who it might be who walked in had sent his spike pressuring again. He had considered standing up and showering anyway, but he was entranced by the sight of himself projected to his HUD display from Ironhide’s point of view. It wasn’t long before he was positioning himself based on what he could see. On his hands and knees, finger teasing at his aft entrance he had undulated his hips at the slick feel. He had watched as his spike tip slid against the floor. Before he knew it, he was rutting his spike against the mess he had made, aft arched up trickling Ironhide’s transfluid, valve clenching on nothing, optics unfocused waiting to be filled by…used by…anyone? He didn’t know. He was so turned on by the time Ironhide was finished, he overloaded simply from the smack to his aft straight against his port that pushed his own finger slighting inside, and the “such a pretty boy” Ironhide had delivered as he left.

He didn’t know what they were to each other, but masturbating with the thought of being caught on camera was no longer enough. Sunstreaker had become frustrated, obsessed; angling the washrack nozzles toward his aft in a stream in order to overload. 

It was never enough. He wanted to be stretched and filled. He wanted to wrap his aft around every pulse of transfluid Ironhide had to offer. He wanted to see who avoided his optics the next day then wonder if they had been on monitor duty. He wanted to watch Ironhide’s transfluid dribble out his stretched aft port and down his sopping wet valve lips. He wanted -

Sunstreaker wanted a lot of things when he was revved up. Most things he tried had rarely lived up to the fantasy he could concoct in his processor.

Now, the reality of the stretch of his outer caliper of his aft port with two of Ironhide’s fingers finally inside it, was still uncomfortable and strange.

“You’re gorgeous,” He could hear the wet slick of Ironhide coating his spike in Sunstreaker’s valve fluid and gun oil. See it, as if it were his own spike on his HUD, a shiny aft in the background of the view, moving and adjusting to two large fingers. “Gonna look even more beautiful with that golden rim you painted on your aft stretched, and you begging me to pound you harder.”

Ironhide's spike tip slipped between Sunstreaker’s soaking valve lips, but didn’t enter. He dragged the tip up and down Sunstreaker’s wet slit then pressed lower so Sunstreaker could rut his frontal node against it. The fingers in his aft felt better; strange, but not bad and before the knew it, he was rising up to meet them before they plunged back down as he worked his valve node on Ironhide’s spike.

“Mmmmmm.” A pleased sound was vibrating out his vocalizer before he realized how much he had been staring at those two fingers stretching his aft on his HUD.

If anyone was watching on the security camera, he wondered if his optics were unfocused. They’d see him seemingly lost in the haze of pleasure, with no idea Sunstreaker was watching his own aft swallow up two large fingers while rutting his valve node against Ironhide's big, slick spike.

“Frag me. Want you in me.” He didn’t know if this was all he wanted in his aft, but he needed that spike somewhere. He needed to -

“Tell me what you need. Ask me for it.”

“I need your spike.” As soon as the first words were out, the rest poured out in a jumbled mess, “I need to feel your 'fluid spurting against my aft. In my aft. Stretch my aft. Frag my valve. Don’t care, just do something with your spike. Need to see it. Want it.”

The last part came out as a whine he couldn't quite supress.

Ironhide tutted, “Don’t know if you’re ready yet.”

The two finger’s raised out of Sunstreaker’s aft and he turned his whine into a challenging growl, clenching down to hold them in. He arched up, away from the hard spike he was rutting against his valve node to draw the entirely of those fingers threatening to leave him empty, down to their base.

Ironhide lined up the tip of his spike on Sunstreaker’s sopping wet valve. 

“You want me here? Say yes and I’ll fill you up. Right here, right now.”

Sunstreaker rocked back slightly to take the tip of Ironhide’s spike in his valve. A decacycle ago, slag, before the washracks, Sunstreaker would have said yes.

“Don’t you fragging dare leave me spread and begging for your spike in my aft again.” He threatened as if he hadn’t enjoyed every moment of that delicious sight of himself so filthy and needy.

“Thought you said you didn’t care?”

This time, Sunstreaker did whine. He worked his aft along the length of those two fingers. They felt strange now, without the feel of his valve node being stimulated. But he ignored the spike at his eager valve entrance.

“Primus those fingers feel so good, but want something bigger.” They felt okay, it was no node, but Sunstreaker pushed himself for more. How much bigger could Ironhide’s spike actually be?

The fingers withdrew, and his aft port didn’t immediately cycle closed.

The tip of Ironhide’s spike slid up from his slick valve mesh. A glistening string of Sunstreaker’s own valve fluid trailed up with it. Finally that spike was lined up against Sunstreaker’s tight aft port, and Sunstreaker clenched.

“Relax.” A light swat to his aft caused Sunstreaker to jump, “It’ll hurt more if you clench now.”

A solitary finger of Ironhide’s drifted down and found a valve node, then started tweaking it.

“Just stick it in already.” Sunstreaker grumbled, but he made a more concerted effort to relax the newly stretched calipers of his port. The finger on his node did feel nice.

“Ya ready?”

“I told you, I can take anything you got old mech. Get it over with.”

Pressure increased, and Sunstreaker’s aft port stretched, he couldn’t stop himself from clenching as the ache increased. His outer caliper spasmed, trying desperately to cycling down.

Ironhide paused, but didn't retreat.

“I’d smack ya, but that’d only cause you to tense up again.” His finger moved more on Sunstreaker’s node, joined by a thumb, “Focus on this.”

His node was rolled between Ironhide's rough fingers and thumb. The sensation took the edge off some of the ache of his aft caliper stretching under pressure.

“Okay.” Sunstreaker pressed himself back at the same time Ironhide pushed forward.

Deeper.

“Augh.” Sunstreaker grunted as a sharp pain lanced through his aft port, and Ironhide paused again. The older mech’s thick spike stopped its entry.

“Not so fast." Two fingers and a thumb now played with a valve node, while Ironhide’s other hand worked to re-pressurize Sunstreaker’s spike. “That’s it. So beautiful. Mmm yea, your aft looks so good stretched around my spike. You’ve already taken the entire tip.”

“Only the tip?” Sunstreaker grunted through clenched denta, his aft caliper simultaneously stretched larger than he had ever imagined, and struggled to clench closed. The sharp pain retreated, going dull and the soaked fingers from his valve reached up to massage his entrance.

“Ya have gotta stop tensing Sunshine.”

“Don’t - ah” Sunstreaker pressed back, revving his engine and more length slid in, “call me Sunshine.”

Ironhide’s spike jerked at the sudden engulfment and Sunstreaker gasped out his vents, his aft port caliper reflexively clenching shut over the growing length.

Slowly, maddeningly slowly, inch by inch Sunstreaker pressed himself back to halfway. Clenching his teeth, he hissed as he felt was a lancing swell, then stopped.

“Alright old mech.” Sunstreaker gritted out through clenched teeth, “That it? I’m not feeling any nodes here. Just really strange and stretched.”

And it fragging hurt.

The hand left his spike, unable to get it to pressurize and a thumb drifted softly around his stretched entrance. “Stop rushing, let yourself adjust then start moving up and down on my spike. Your aft nodes need faster stimulation to rise.”

“You’re joking.” Ironhide wanted him to move on this monster of a rod he called a spike?

He started to rock his hips, but hissed and Ironhide’s hands rested on his sides, holding him in place.

“Not yet. You wedged yourself on me deep. I can still make this good for ya, but you took too much of me too fast.”

“Fine.” He snapped. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so irritated that this wasn’t living up to his fantasy. It’s not like Ironhide was anyone special.

“You want to stop?” The feed from his HUD winked out.

“No!” Sunstreaker all but shouted, "Just -" He dropped his forehelm down to rest on his hands, even that little movement made him hiss and he huffed out a frustrated vent. “I want this.”

His final statement was more of a whisper, to convince himself or his fantasy about this, he didn’t know.

“Tell me what you want.” This time Ironhide’s voice was softer and his fingers returned to rubbing Sunstreaker’s valve node. “This what you want? You under me on the mat you’ve sparred on. Illuminated for anyone to see? Valve fluid glistening with your need, golden rim stretched wide? The cameras are watching.” His hands switched, newly lubricated fingers massaged at the entrance of Sunstreaker’s stretched aft. “You look so pretty like this, your plating shining and just starting to form some condensation. Can’t blame ya for going too fast, ya got no patience. But I can’t complain, you look gorgeous stretched around my spike like this.”

Sunstreaker shifted slightly and even that small movement ached, but he couldn’t stop moving against those fingers on his node. Every small movement shifted Ironhide’s huge spike wedged up his aft.

He’d never felt so full, and in a way he couldn’t describe, close to his partner. He could feel every inch pushing into him, there was little room to expand. Aft ports weren’t meant to take spikes, but Ironhide stretching him fit in a way that felt more intimate than taking his spike in his valve. There was no room. No widening inside him, or gestation chamber waiting for transfluid.

Just a snug, tight fit with no space but for the older mech’s massive spike to pump. 

Sunstreaker started slow.

Tiny movements up and down, felt longer and wider than Ironhide’s spike could possibly be. He pushed his aft back, there was impossibly more to take.

Ironhide’s engine rumbled in pleasure, and the vibrations sent a strange thrill with the pain of the added movement. There was no room between them even for a simple vibration. His aft port entrance strained under the stretch; wide.

Pushing back, Sunstreaker tried to take more.

“Oh frag. That’s it.” Ironhide praised, “Take all of me up that pretty aft of yours.”

Who ever was on monitor duty, might be watching - watching Sunstreaker take Ironhide’s massive spike up his aft. On his hands and knees in the middle of the training mat he had slammed Sideswipe down on earlier today.

His spark raced.

All of it. He wanted all of it, no space left between them.

Sunstreaker pulled forward, every inch of Ironhide’s huge spike, tapering down toward the tip. It burned slightly. Ached as his aft caliper held tight. He paused before he pushed himself slowly back.

“Show me.” Sunstreaker demanded, “I want to watch my aft to take your spike to the hilt.”

“Mmmmm. Like the sound of that, but slowly. Explore. Experiment. Let me enjoy ya before you start going wild.” Ironhide restarted the video feed transmission to Sunstreaker’s HUD.

Only the tip of Ironhide was inside Sunstreaker now. The golden ring he had painted around his aft port reflected the red biolights pulsing from Ironhide's thick spike. Ironhide gasped as Sunstreaker playfully clenched his aft port down on the tip. It was narrower. Smaller than what had been in him before. It still ached. Still felt odd and far too big than what he should have up here.

“You sure you can last with my tight aft stretched around you?” Sunstreaker still doubted he’d go wild with how much this ached, but the view was nice and those fingers on his node gave him something else to feel as he adjusted.

“Been awhile, and I’ve never seen a pretty view like you Sunshine. But I’ll last.” The adoration in the undertones of Ironhide's voice encouraged him.

Sunstreaker began to move. Working himself up and down on the tip, as Ironhide’s vent’s strained -

Watching the golden ring next to black plating stretch, Sunstreaker teased Ironhide with the view of the tip of himself stretching him.

Until it wasn’t enough.

Leaning back Sunstreaker took an inch, then another until he felt more of an ache. He paused to let his aft adjust then began to hump himself on those fingers on his valve node. Once most of the ache left, he worked himself up to the tip then back down. Watching his aft port hold tight and drag out a bit as he rode up off the length of that massive spike was entrancing. When he pushed back, the golden outer ring all but disappeared from view. Licking his lips, he stared at how much more of Ironhide’s spike he still had to take. He had engulfed his way up to the fourth biolight when his plating relaxed a fraction. No space, closer, like this - he started to moan imagining transfluid on his aft - in his aft.

“Full. More full.” Was all Sunstreaker managed to say.

“That’s it Sunshine,” Ironhide moaned, struggling not to push forward in order to let Sunstreaker set the pace, “Take as much or as little as you want.”

“More. Want more. Closer.” Sunstreaker pushed himself deeper, up to half now when the pain of his aft port straining increased. This time he didn’t stop. Loving the full stretch, knowing the pain would eventually subside now.

Ironhide added more gun oil to his spike and Sunstreaker reached back to feel the stretch of his aft with his own hand. Wrapping his hand around Ironhide’s spike, he could barely reach around the entire girth of it.

“Frag it’s big. Stretching me.” Spreading two of his fingers on either side of his entrance, he slid all the way off and watched Ironhide’s spike pop out. His aft didn’t cycle down. Both of Sunstreaker’s finger’s slid inside himself easily now when just a half a decacycle ago in the washracks barely a tip of his finger had slid inside with that smack to his aft.

“Slip in a third.” Ironhide panted, adding more gun oil to his spike and Sunstreaker did. The third made it tight, a nice pleasant stretch and made for an enticing view.

It wasn’t enough. 

Reaching back he grabbed Ironhide’s sloppy spike and lined it back up at his the entrance to his aft port. 

“More. Please. Stretch my aft more. Like it.”

A deep possessive rumble echoed from Ironhide’s engine and Sunstreaker slid himself back down on that massive spike. It stretched. It ached. He pushed back for more than half. 

Sunstreaker increased his pace.

“Frag me. Please. Frag me up my aft. Feels different. So close. Stretch me more.”

“Oh yea." Ironhide's engine rumbled along with his vocalizer, "That’s it Sunshine. Keep going. You want it all don’t you? Your vain aft is greedy ain’t it? Look at that ring straining and sucking tight.”

It was true. Biolights disappeared and his golden ringed port looked greedy, straining and sucking tight. Ironhide’s talk encouraged him, he took more. It never ended. He could see how much more still needed to fit. Every new bit of length he took tapered wider toward the hilt. Stretched him further. Strange, but Ironhide was right. Sunstreaker was greedy. He wanted to see it all fit. 

He didn’t know when the fingers dropped from his valve node, but all Sunstreaker wanted now was the closeness of being impossibly full, and that aching stretch.

“Can’t hold back now Sunshine.” Ironhide’s hands gripped at his hips now, “So close. You’re so close to taking it all.”

More gun oil was poured sloppily over Sunstreaker’s aft, half spilling down over his impossibly stretched port and Sunstreaker rose himself off to the tip. It certainly didn’t feel like the tip, it still felt snug inside him. He could only tell to stop from his view on his HUD.

Ironhide poured more gun oil over the length of his spike. It dripped off the base of him, then Sunstreaker slammed his greedy, needy aft down Ironhide's entire massive length to the hilt. A moan erupted from his vocalizer, his vents strained. His HUD flashed warnings but he arched up off his hands, kneeling as he savored the feeling deeper.

“So full.”

Ironhide’s hand reached around to the front of him, slick with gun oil and grasped Sunstreaker’s fully pressurized spike. He couldn’t help up but rut into that hand, gliding smoothly and his arousal at taking Ironhide’s massive spike to the hilt on full display to the security camera before him. Valve lubricant dripped down his legs with the upright angle. A wet sliding grip, echoed through the training room as Ironhide's hand gripped and pumped his spike. 

“Look at you. So fragging hard now ain't ya." A second hand drifted from his hips to rub his valve lubricant across his inner thigh. "You’re a sopping mess.”

He knew. Sunstreaker knew he was a sopping, groaning mess but he didn’t care. Ironhide clamped his hand tighter on Suntreaker’s spike and he thrust in it. Each movement jostling the impossibly full feeling of his over stretched aft deeper with gravity. He started to bounce. Working himself again and again up and down on that final stretch of spike.

Ironhide pulled his legs further apart, rolled back slightly onto his own aft so Sunstreaker could get his feet under him. 

With Ironhide's chestplate against his back, Sunstreaker's feet found purchase on the floor. 

"Now show off for the camera." Ironhide ordered. 

"Ah - yes." A shuddering gasping moan shot out of his vocalizer and Sunstreaker spread his legs wider so his the monster of a spike stretching his aft could be seen. Another smack to his valve and Sunstreaker's engine purred. He moved his hips back and forth feeling that wide stretch until that wasn't enough. Pushing up with his feet, needy noises flowing out of him, he rose up to pull out the entire length. Working himself on the tip for all the cameras, including the one he could see from Ironhide, he slammed back to the hilt. "AH! Deeper! That's deeper."

Ironhide worked his hand on his spike while Sunstreaker rose up to slam himself back down again, deeper than Sunstreaker had ever taken a spike. 

Intimate. There was an intimacy, a worship and caring of his pleasure beyond an assumption his valve could get him off.

His poor neglected valve forgotten, it’s only use now dripping down his legs. He reached between his legs to spread it apart, to show the camera and whoever was watching that he still had an empty valve.

A free hole? He didn’t know what he was offering, if anything. His fingers didn’t stay long before they drifted lower to feel that massive stretch. Ironhide rumbled his approval through his plating with his engine. Ironhide's hand left his leg plating then grabbed Sunstreaker's hip.

"That's it. That's it. Finger it. Show off that pretty stretched golden rim. You are so fucking tight around my spike aren't you?" Sunstreaker's legs started to tremble, but he couldn't stop feeling his aft stretch up and down on Ironhide's spike. Ironhide was doing more of the work now, increasing the pace.

Primus, Sunstreaker didn’t know how his aft didn’t burst apart under the pressure. 

Ironhide didn’t let up, and Sunstreaker’s helm rolled back to rest on the older mech’s shoulder with a sudden gasp. Vents straining, an electric foreign pleasure erupted through his aft.

Up his aft.

“Mmmmm” Ironhide panted and sucked on Sunstreaker's neck cables, “You feel that?”

Sunstreaker whimpered in need and increased his pace. This is what he wanted. More than he knew he wanted.

The hand stopped gripping his spike, leaving it to bounce freely as Ironhide grabbed both his hips. Sunstreaker bounced faster, his processor became muddled.

"That's it. A gorgeous, beautiful mess like you like you belongs on display." Ironhide was fucking his aft now in full view of the camera. For a brief second, Sunstreaker thought how hot it would look if Ironhide spurted up his aft now. 

He was pushed him back down on his hands and knees. Ironhide's spike in his aft was getting larger, swelling but Sunstreaker couldn't stop. 

He eagerly thrust himself back on it; he fragging loved it. 

“That’s your aft nodes rising for me, that’s how I know we did this right. You’re gonna want this now.” Sunstreaker could only stare at his HUD as he watched Ironhide pull all the way out, then slam deliciously back in. “Want my big spike stretching your aft, gonna finger your vain aft here now in front of a mirror ain’t ya? Send me vids during my shift and tell me how you can’t get stretched enough. You gonna sneak off during your twin’s shifts to finger yourself on the floor of your room while you comm me? What if you use the wrong signal and the whole Ark can hear you beg for a big spike filling your aft.”

Sunstreaker could only moan at the visuals that produced in his processor along side the live feed of himself arching up to reach every stretching inch. It should have hurt, but all he could feel was the electric shocks of a new pleasure he has never felt shoot up his aft. His entire aft would spasm, each shift revealing a new node for the tip of Ironhide’s spike to reach. Every stretch up and down the length of Ironhide’s spike, like a ring of nodes around the edge. Every slamming stretch brought him closer to overload. His spike bounced, hard and unattended. His valve dripped and clenched on nothing. 

And he didn’t care. 

Ironhide tilted his face back and stuck a finger in his mouth. On his own HUD he saw his unfocused optics, bleached white and sparking in a haze of pleasure. He watched as he closed his plump, gorgeous lips around it. Greedily he sucked his own fluid off that finger then opened for a second, only partially wondering if these two fingers in his mouth now had been the two up his aft. That stray thought made him suck harder.

“You look so gorgeous like this Sunshine. Bent over on the training mat for me. Giving me use of your beautiful tight aft. Sucking whatever I give ya. You don’t care who sees do ya.”

Ironhide’s hand slapped down on his aft, and Sunstreaker jumped, clenched.

A static spitting moan at the pleasure that slap caused a node deep up his aft to be grazed.

“Ya like that?”

“Yes. More. Again.” It was hard to suck and talk.

“Where’s your manners?”

“Yes please.” He mumbled around the fingers thrusting in his mouth.

Another smack. This one harder and he felt a welling in his spike. He was so close to spilling on the mat he had slammed Sideswipe's down on earlier.

“Such a pretty boy stretched and sucking like this. Next time I overload on that gorgeous face first.” His thumb drifted across the spittle on Sunstreaker's lower lip, "Think these pretty lips can stretch around my spike? Maybe I'll have ya lick my aft."

Sunstreaker paused from his muffled begging to suck harder as if that fantasy could become a reality now. He'd look so hot between Sunstreaker's legs, lips stretched around his big spike. He'd look even better later with Ironhide’s fingers in his mouth, face dripping with transfluid and his aft stretched wider than was probably healthy. Those fingers withdrew and drifted away; Sunstreaker whined. He focused on the sight Ironhide’s hands, two fingers glistening with Suntreaker’s oral fluid, spreading his aft plate further apart. Sunstreaker froze at the sight of the shear size of Ironhide’s spike, and begged for more pleasure he had never known he could achieve. 

“Harder. Frag my aft harder. More. Deeper. So close. Greedy. More. Please.”

Frag he had never thought he was into begging and whatever else this was with Ironhide. He was so close. Pressure was at the base of his bobbing spike.

Another smack and his transfluid erupted out his spike onto the mat. His own shuddering moan echoed in his audials. He watched on a split screen of his HUD as his spike convulse without any more stimulation that the nodes that were making his aft even more impossibly tight as he clamped down on Ironhide’s huge spike stretching him in his overload. Sunstreaker was locked in overload, plating flaring and condensation dripping, optics cycling as Ironhide kept slamming his massive spike into Sunstreaker’s now ruined aft.

Ruined for anyone else but Ironhide, a stray thought worked its way across his processor. Yes, his valve was for everyone else but his aft was for this…for him.

If he ever used his valve again after this.

Ironhide rode through the tide of Sunstreaker’s tremors and incoherent static laced moans begging for Ironhide to never stop. He took a few steadying vents as he stared at the puddle he had made. His body going still while Ironhide continued to rail deep up his aft.

The older mech was talking, speaking Sunstreaker’s praises in a moan. Yes, he was so pretty like this. Yes, his aft did now belong to Ironhide.

“Oh frag yes.”

“Glad you agree Sunshine.”

The pleasure impossibly increased with Ironhide’s words, and soon Sunstreaker was slamming his aft back to clang hard against Ironhide.

“You are greedy ain’t ya. One overload ain’t enough for you.”

“In me. Up my aft. Please.” Sunstreaker sobbed for more.

“With anyone watching?” That taunt only made Sunstreaker moan and rail himself back harder. “Someone is. Seen the camera’s moving. They’ve been watching me stretch this tight aft of yours…not so tight any more. Do you want someone to come and fill up that empty valve of yours? It’ll make you even tighter against me.”

Sunstreaker sobbed, vents hitching as he reached back and fingered his valve, now interested in the fantasy.

“Getting close Sunshine.” Ironhide panted, his own vents straining. “Gonna fill ya up.”

“No room.” Sunstreaker gasped out, fans struggling to keep up with the heat and skipping. Ironhide reached around and grasped Sunstreaker’s fingers pumping in his valve. Added two of his own.

“Mmmm,” Ironhide hummed in his audial, “we’ll find some.”

With a nip to Sunstreaker’s neck cables, Ironhide grunted out his overload deep up Sunstreaker’s aft.

Each pulse of Ironhide’s large spike inside Sunstreaker stretched him further, ring nodes swelling, transfluid spilling inside him and shooting out against an internal aft node. The doors could have cycled open this instant and Sunstreaker wouldn’t have been able to stop his overload. Each spurt sent plating flaring and electicity sparking as hot charge shot and arched through his systems, starting from his aft and arching back toward Ironhide. The overload that resulted whited out his HUD as he arched up, pulsing himself up and down and savoring every electrified inch of Ironhide achingly snug fit up his aft.

He collapsed, panting out his vents, waiting for Ironhide’s massive spike to de-pressurized inside him. 

The delightful nodes he didn’t know he had in his aft retreated, and the aching pain of his overworked and stretched aft returned. But he ignored it, floating in the after shocks of overload.

With a soft hiss of and grimace, he watched Ironhide pull out on his HUD. 

Transfluid dribbled out Sunstreaker’s stretched aft port.

He clenched down, suddenly achingly empty.

And he reached back to stuck two fingers easily in his slick aft.

Then he added a third.

Ironhide's engine rumbled in approval.


End file.
